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SEVENTEEN.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


216

SEVENTEEN.

In childhood, when my girlish view
Glanced over life's unfading green,
Thoughts undefin'd, and bright, and new,
Would blend with thee, sweet Seventeen.
Restrain'd at twelve by matron care,
My walks prescrib'd, my movements seen,
How bright the sun, how free the air
Seem'd circling round fair Seventeen.
Thirteen arriv'd; but still my book,
My dress, were watch'd with aspect keen,
Scarce on a novel might I look,
And balls—must wait for Seventeen.
Fourteen allowed the evening walk
Where friendship's eye illum'd the scene;
The long romantic bosom-talk,
That talk, which glanced at Seventeen.

217

The next revolving circle brought
A quicker pulse, yet graver mien;
I read, and practis'd, studied, thought,
For what? to stop at Seventeen.
Sixteen arriv'd, that witching year
When youthful hearts like buds are seen,
Ready to ope as first appear
The genial rays of Seventeen.
They came—have passed—think not, fair maids,
My hand shall draw that magic screen;
But this I urge, fill well your heads,
And guard your hearts for Seventeen.